“Consider this an olive branch,” he says. “We’re even for the next thirty minutes. After that, we can go back to sparring.”
“Blink twice if you’ve been lobotomized.”
“They tried.” He smirks. “Didn’t work.”
I’m still staring at him in confusion as he feeds Beppe a slice of cucumber.
“Eat your dinner before it gets cold,” he tells me.
For the next hour, that’s what we do. The conversation drifts naturally from one topic to the next, and I mostly sit back and observe, enjoying the mental break. I never feel out of place at the Vitales, and they don’t pressure me to join in unless I feel like it. Admittedly, things were a little weird at first when Abella got married, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate our friendship around that relationship. But over time, I’ve realized that very little has changed. We still talk regularly and meet up often. The only difference is that there’s a baby in tow now.
Antonella gets passed around the table throughout the meal, even ending up on Romeo’s lap at one point. It’s weird to see him with a baby, but he’s actually really good with her. Much more natural than I am.
When dessert arrives and espressos are served, Riccardo comes wandering back out, looking pale and sickly. He’s drowning in a pair of pants he must have borrowed from one of the Vitale brothers, because they’re far too long for him. He looks small and weak, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. Then I remember what an asshole he was earlier, and that sympathy evaporates.
“I think I’m coming down with something,” he groans. “I’m gonna head back to the city.”
“You’ve had a run of bad luck lately,” Rafe remarks. “Boat problems. Stomach bug. Regulatory probes. You must have broken a mirror or something.”
“Tell me about it,” Riccardo grunts.
He lifts his gaze to me, and something flickers in his eyes. I have a feeling he’s not going to let go of what happened tonight, and I can only hope Michael doesn’t hear about it.
“Gabi, I’ll be in touch with you to reschedule our dance practice. We also need to talk about the wedding plans.”
“Okay.” I swallow.
With that, he turns and leaves, everyone offering their goodbyes, their voices a little too bright at his departure. When he’s gone, relief expands in my lungs. At least I didn’t have to dance with him today.
I check the time on my phone, noting that I’ll have to leave soon to get back to the city and wind down for the night.
As Nonna comes around to collect everyone’s plates, Romeo slides his chair back and gets up.
“Where are you off to?” Rafe asks.
“I have a hot date with my hot girlfriend.”
Those words settle over everyone at the table, leaving them in stunned silence. Romeo doesn’t appear to notice or care, because he walks into the house without another word and disappears.
A sick feeling crawls up my throat as I process this news.
“Did he just say girlfriend?” Mariella asks.
“Where do you think he’s been sneaking off to?” Rafe chuckles.
Angelo scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.
“Did you know about this?” Abella grills him.
“I didn’t know he was calling her his girlfriend,” he answers dryly. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Abella shoots me an apologetic glance, almost as if she can sense the ache in my chest. I always knew it would happen eventually. But I had hoped it wouldn’t feel like someone gut-punched me when it did.
Our kiss still lingers in my mind, and unless his girlfriend just appeared out of thin air, it means they must have already been seeing each other when that happened. Now I’m not only confused, but an accomplice to…betrayal? Although that doesn’t feel right. I could never imagine Romeo as the cheating type. So maybe they just made things official?
“What’s she like?” Mariella asks Rafe. “Spill.”
“You know Romeo.” He shrugs. “He’s not the type to kiss and tell.”
